MONTREAL - Wow: great setting, we said, when we got to Bevo. The historic greystone building is on tiny St. Vincent St., which has to be one of the most charming side streets in Old Montreal. We chose to play tourist, and settled on the terrasse set out on the quiet, brick-lined road. Inside, the restaurant is dark and dramatic, with a wood-burning oven at one end and a large, red-lighted bar at the other. Wooden tables are topped with paper illustrating the steps for making pizza. Clubby corners are perfect for lounging, and there are also suspended egg chairs for sitting and spinning after a few cocktails, à la swinging ’60s. A little cheesy, but fun, as long as you can embrace the formaggio. And we were more than willing to do that.

Unfortunately, the experience was disappointing. The Italian scene on this continent has become more sophisticated, with more and more restaurants getting certification from the Verace Pizza Napoletana association, which sets stringent standards regarding the quality and authenticity of Naples-style pizza. I don’t need VPN pizza to be satisfied, but I’ve eaten a lot of it. It has brought tighter focus and awareness of technique to even non-certified openings, raising expectations across the board.

To start, the cocktails. Not the best sign that Bevo wasn’t using any of the interesting Italian bitters out there, not even Aperol. But when the waiter mentioned that they make their own tomato juice for the mix in the Sangre del Maria, it was a tempting way to kick things off. What came tasted like a Bloody Mary with Gattuso pizza sauce. And does anyone want to drink flecks of dried oregano? I put it aside, impressed to find later that it had been classily taken off the bill. My friend, meanwhile, worked through a Campari spritz that lacked fizz. “It’s not totally flat,” she said. “Look, there’s a bubble.” This was early in the meal, when we were both still hopeful.

On the topic of staying positive, our waiter was a lovely guy, cheerful to the point of denial. Throughout the evening, as he cleared our barely touched plates, he would ask, “So, what was your favourite?” Paging Dr. Awkward.

One of those unfinished plates was a fennel, orange and pecan salad, potentially spot-on for a summer night. The citrus was fabulous, carefully sectioned out and juicy; so were the nuts. Weirdly lacking anise flavour, the uncored fennel bulb was crudely cut across in thick slices, including the rusty base. Was anyone watching that go out? The next appetizer had more charm: one merry arancino (so huge, you need only one) bulging with saffron risotto in a thin golden crust. It was topped with a clump of ragu that had been seriously cooked down so that it was mostly meat solids. Oddly addictive.

Pasta plates are generously portioned. Although curious about the homemade cavatelli Bolognese, it wasn’t the weather for a load of meaty sauce.

Fazzoletti, handkerchiefs of house pasta folded over ricotta, were recommended by the ever-optimistic server. The topping of fresh, chopped tomatoes – bright, not over-cooked, with a hint of acid – hit the right notes. But the pasta packages sat in a thick pool of congealed butter, olive oil and white wine – like, take a forkful and note how the yellow substance doesn’t move to cover white space left on the plate. Shudder.

Done at high heat in a wood-burning oven, pizza is obviously the specialty here. The list of choices, neither too long nor too short, is appealing: particularly Parma in Blanco, with prosciutto, arugula and Parmigiano Reggiano, and the Saccense with anchovies. (The Capricciosa, with hard-boiled eggs, is more out there.) Keeping it simple with a Margherita, we got a nicely blistered crust with tomato sauce, fresh mozzarella and basil. The dough could have been livelier and more elastic, but this was promising. The best part of the meal.

When it came time for dessert, my friend pointed through the window to a gigantic jar of Nutella on the counter inside, destined for a sweet pizza.

In silent agreement, we decided to skip it.

I don’t usually use this column space for negative reviews of some unknown little mom ’n’ pop outfit that will never get it together.

Bevo, another opening for the Antonopoulos Group, here under chef Giovanni Vella, is higher profile. ­More important, I feel like it should and could be better.

This kind of Italian in this location – with that late-night pizza bar on weekends – has potential: notch up the drink list with real cocktails and southern Italian wines, focus on serving crisp salads and amazing pizzas.

It seems that between the concept and realization, something got lost. Everything’s in place for it to be found.

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